The Sorcery of Deceit
by Athexreh
Summary: Rewrite of The Old Threat. When a force threatens to rip apart the foundations of the multiverse, unlikely and unwilling alliances must be made between the light and dark as well as magical and non-magical realms. Doesn't follow any one book and will probably end up being a free-for-all and will encompass several KH characters.


I have rediscovered the joys of writing fanfics. But I've realized that some of my stories no longer made much sense, so I decided to rewrite The Old Threat. So, hopefully this one turned out better than the last one. Only one way to find out, no?

Zexion sighed. The manila folder in his hands was utterly useless; there was little information he could use, or that was relevant in his opinion. The mission had to be some sort of punishment, as far as he could tell; any one of them could have gone on a recon mission, but he was the one stuck with it. He spent a few moments trying to think of what he could have done, but he couldn't think of anything he'd that would have landed him with such a mission.

Maybe his Heartless had done something and he was being punished for it. That was a possibility; Seth was always in some sort of trouble. He wasn't sure why the let the little devil around; Zexion couldn't remember being that obnoxious as a Somebody. However, having a Heartless that retained its memory and human appearance made life a bit simpler. Heartless were simple beings that only obeyed those they were sure they could not overpower. Few of them had the time to deal with the swarm of Shadows that swarmed under the Castle. It took some time, but Seth had managed to, somehow, instill some order in the city. Which made walking the streets less of a headache, and he hardly saw Seth, which was preferable.

With an absent flick of his wrist, he summoned his Lexicon and neatly tucked the mission orders into the pages of his weapon, the information it held melding into the blank pages. Amusement crossed his mind; they said his weapon was useless, but who had never blotched a mission before? He had, that's who.

Good humor dissipating, he portabled to his room and stood there for a second, wondering what, if anything, the mission would call for. Clothes and food he could find while he was there. Or steal, if he needed to; there was no guarantee the array of money he had would be accepted on that world, nor if anything he had would be socially acceptable. And the extra luggage would slow him down. If worst came to worse, he could always throw up an illusion and hope it would go by unnoticed. Looking around the sparse room, he racked his brain, trying to be sure he wasn't forgetting anything. The dozen books he had thrown on his desk would be left behind. As would the array of weather beaten scrolls he was in the middle of translating. However, the fish would have to find a new home for a few days, but he was sure Demyx wouldn't be opposed to it; there was no way he was trusting any of the other Orgnization members to care for it. And Seth had too many things vying for his attention, mostly false leads on the locations of the Organization's Heartless; he was hardly home long enough to take care of a fish. Zexion knew how much the constant failure was affecting the demon; he would occasionally get flashes of annoyance and frustration that had nothing to do with what he was doing.

He assumed that's where his Heartless was, down some be rabbit trail, chasing after shadows. He chuckled at his own joke before schooling his features into a more serious expression.

There was only one thing left to take care of before he could get the mission started. Carefully grabbing the fish bowl, he opened another portal, and stepped inside.

The room was empty, if cluttered. A dozen pillows were scattered on the floor, paper and pencils forming a dangerous carpet shifting under his feet. Demyx wasn't there, so he sat the fish on the musician's desk where it would be found and gave the clear glass a last, affectionate pat.

With nothing else that needed taking care of, he opened a final portal and let the darkness coil around him.

The stench of nature was overwhelming as he stepped through. Waterlogged leaves were rotting underfoot and a dozen small, dead things were souring in the humidity. The muggy warmth was suffocating. A wall of miserable uncomfortableness. The thick, black material of his uniform was sweltering and he'd only been there a good two minutes. Ignoring his discomfort, he trudged on, the ground soft under his feet, the earth threatening to swallow his boots with each step.

The mission had said the terrain was mostly forest, but the miles of densely packed trees and dark olive canopy was ridiculous. There wa no way he would be hiking through it all if he could have helped it. However, walking was his only option. In magical worlds, there was no guarantee the prescience of a Nobody would go unnoticed for long, and any magical display risked exposure and attention. Coupled with the fact that there was so little information made him move cautiously.

As he walked, he went over what little he knew about the world and mission in general. Magic was present, he could feel it seeping out of the ground and thrumming around his skull. It would take time to adjust to the overwhelming saturation of energy in the air. While it lasted, he was going to take full advantage of the energy coiling around him.

His objective, however, was a good half day's hike away. Any closer would have risked triggering the wards, or so he was told. In the middle of the dark humidity, that reason seemed a bit ridiculous in comparison to his discomfort. And as soon as he reached the castle, a school no less, he was to report anything curious and await further instruction. He wasn't to engage in any fight or conversation. It was a simple, if strict, information gathering. For some reason he wasn't convinced it would be that simple.

Stumbling over the exposed root of some ancient tree, he cursed, righting himself at the last moment. He glared at his surroundings, properly taking them in for the first time. The trees seemed to be thinning out a bit, small ray of sunlight reaching the forest floor. The ground was clear of bushes, though, and he couldn't tell if it was magical intervention or not. In the end he supposed it didn't matter, but so little was known about the world; there was no way to tell how competent the inhabitants were at wielding magic.

With a shrug he continued on, painfully aware of the silence pressing down around him. While most creatures shied away from Nobodies, the absolute stillness felt different. Tenser. It wasn't that the wildlife was avoiding him, it felt as though they were watching, waiting for something to happen.

Hours dragged by, the passage of time going mostly unnoticed. The sky was obscured by trees, the film of yellow-green light casting him in premature twilight. But, when he was all but ready to set up camp, he thought he heard voices.

He was aware that his heightened sense of smell would be unreliable for as long as it took him to adjust, but he didn't expect to be completely taken by surprise. He hadn't been paying attention and that had almost compromised the entire mission. He had a small window of opportunity to find them; if they stopped talking, he could very easily lose track of their location.

There were three of them, two men and one woman, standing by what appeared to be the remains of an equine of some sort. From where he stood, partially concealed in the gloom, Zexion was able to get a decent look at all three of them.

The leader, he assumed by the way the other two kept glancing back at him, was easily the oldest man Zexion had ever seen. Both beard and hair were a bright white and easily down to the man's waist. Wrinkles covered every inch of skin he could see, giving the man a grandfatherly look. Even from where Zexion stood, the amount of white energy the man radiated was uncomfortable.

The other man was the complete opposite. There was something about him that spoke of darkness. Something familiar in the shorter, darker haired man. He couldn't quite place his finger on it, but, for some reason, he seemed to be the biggest threat in the group. It could have something to do with the dark eyes that fixed him in a piercing glare. Upon further inspection, that was probably it.

"Headmaster," said the darker one, "we are being watched."

"Yes, Severus," said the older one.

The shorter, Severus, finally tore his eyes away from where Zexion was hiding. The stick, probably a wand, the Nobody mused, in his hand twitched up, but paused as the other spoke.

"No need. Minerva has it under control."

At the smirk that spread across the shorter one's face, Zexion's blood ran cold. He had a moment to wonder where the woman had gone before there was a slight sound behind him. He spun around quickly, a bright flash of light catching him square in the chest.

Well, there it was. The rewrite for the first chapter. Think it's worth continuing? Leave a comment and tell me what you think.


End file.
